So, what do we do now?
by ElisabethShuker
Summary: Following on from the events of 2x09 'Everyone says I Love You', Charlie, Miles, Rachel and Monroe are left shocked, injured and without a place to return to.
1. The Bar

"Oh my god", Charlie barely breathed the words as she watched the soldiers burn. She slid her gaze to Monroe, "Oh my god," she mouthed again.

His eyes moved lazily from her, to his gun, to the dying men and returned to meet her troubled stare, "Aaron," he mouthed.

Charlie sunk into the rubble that she said been hiding behind. She leaned her head back and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. It was always the same, just as everything was starting to make sense again, the whole world shifted around her. She noticed movement in the corner of her eye.

Monroe lowered himself beside her, shoulder resting against hers, and sunk beneath the line of rubble, still weary of attack. "Let's see who we can find," he murmured in her hear. His voice was a steady balance between grim amusement and desperate concern for his friend.

Charlie wrapped her fingers tightly around her gun and rose to her feet slowly. Once standing straight she glared at him, daring him stand up above the line of safety.

They stepped softly past the now still and charred bodies; she, desperate to look everywhere else for unlikely survivors, and he, morbidly fascinated by their sudden death.

She raised her arm to silence him as she heard movement further down the corridor and listened; the sound of feet dragging against the floor and the dull thud of over-burdened footsteps reached her ears. "Mom?" she whispered into the quiet, pressing her back against the wall to look around and down the corridor.

"Wait." Monroe's urgent whisper accompanied a firm grasp on her wrist. "Let me look." It was out of place, for him to take the lead. It wasn't easy to remember that he was as concerned about Miles as she was.

He stepped forward, flat against the wall, against Charlie, reaching to glance around the corner. In a moment, he had stepped out into the open, arms wide and gun held slackly.

"Great to see you alive Rachel, what on earth have you done to Miles?"

Charlie jerked out from behind the wall, "Mom?" then she caught sight of the body she dragged, "Miles?!" She ran towards them and helped support his body. "He needs a doctor."

"Not likely to happen, we can't go back to Willoughby."

Charlie rolled her gaze to her mother, struck by the truth of it, "but, other towns must have doctors?"

"Not as skilled as your Grandpa, Charlie."

"Better than nothing," Monroe's strained voice betrayed the stubborn distance displayed in his posture.

"Wanna help us, General?" She hadn't been so callous towards him in weeks, but the sight of her uncle so weak had her on edge.

Monroe reached out to gently lift Miles over his shoulder, both Rachel and Charlie looking on with little help to offer.

It was fifteen miles to the nearest town, but the day had just begun and they had no time to waste.

"Aaron," Charlie whispered as they left the buildings of the old High School.

"Fine." Monroe's voice was saturated with impatience, "you two stay and find that defenceless waste of all our energy, I'll get Miles fixed up."

"I won't leave him." Rachel's voice was lined with determination and Charlie breathed out slowly as she regarded her thoughtfully. Something must have happened.

"I'll stay." Her eyes still fixed on Rachel's expression.

"Okay, Charlotte, you look for Aaron."

"I'll meet you in town."

"I'll come back for you," she met his eyes and was surprised by their intensity.

"Okay," her jaw set as she nodded and turned back towards the school.

ooo

Monroe placed one foot in front of the other carefully and silently. She would be around here somewhere, it made sense to start in the middle and work out; Aaron and Cynthia had arrived in the school before anyone else, so would most likely be found in the centre of the circle of surrounding Patriots. He heard a sharp intake of breath, a sudden response belonging to Charlie. His steady pace quickened, examining each turn quickly as he went.

Turning the third corner on the right, he saw Charlie, her figure slumped and gun lowered. Monroe advanced with caution.

Before he had reached her, she turned, sensing his presence. "She's dead and he's gone. I guess everything, all this," she gestured back down the corridors where the patriot bodies lay, "must have spooked him." Monroe reached her side as she spoke. "Not sure where we find him now. He's run away so many times but I reckon this must be it now."

Monroe didn't have an answer, but reached out and clenched his hand around her tense arm, "C'mon Charlotte, let's get into town and see how Miles is doing."

"Can't we at least bury her?" Her question was quieter than a whisper.

ooo

"Charlie, you say? Yes, you mother said you'd be here. She said you'd be here with a man old enough to be your father." Monroe scowled, his hand still tightly clamped around Charlie's arm, guiding her, supporting her, checking her pulse was still going. She'd not spoken as he dug the grave, just crouched on the ground to weave twigs into a cross. He'd not noticed that much affection between Charlie and Aaron, but it must be there.

They entered the small public room her mother had rented for the night and Charlie let out a snort, "I'm glad he's gonna be okay, but, is this room all you could get?"

"Gonna be pretty crowded by the looks of things," He slowly let go of her arm, he didn't need to guide her anywhere any more, and briefly brushed passed the skin on her forearm.

Rachel's eyes were trained on the unconscious Miles. "If you're bothered about the space, there's a second room next door," her preoccupation with Miles numbing her awareness of her daughter.

Monroe followed Charlie into the adjoining room and held her gaze when she suddenly turned to face him. "Didn't fancy sharing a room with Mom and Miles, huh?"

"Not really."

She raised her right hand to clasp her left shoulder, around where he had been gripping earlier. He had been so set on guiding her home he hadn't thought much of the extended contact. She had.

"You came back twice."

He frowned, "what?"

"Today, at the school. You left and came back for me twice." He dipped his head slightly, nodding as he understood, but said nothing in reply. "Mattress or couch?" There was no bed in this room, Rachel had decided Miles was most deserving of a bed.

"Couch, and you can have the blanket too." He sank onto the seat and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Thanks," her voice was strained. They'd spent nights in close proximity before, in the swimming pool, on the journey to Willoughby. But there was something about being in a room, four walls and a ceiling that made her tense.

ooo

The shot tore through his body. His strength buckled under Emma's dead weight. The cold night air stung his watering eyes as he let her sink to the ground.

He woke up in the dark, tensing his muscles as his eyes adjusted. He turned his head to see Charlie lying on the mattress. She lay on her back, with her face turn away from him. She must have been restless at some point earlier in the night because the blanket was bunched up around her stomach, doing little to keep her warm.

Her worn boots and leather jacket lay on the floor next to the mattress, the skin on her arms bruised and marked against the dull white sheets. Would she have been like Emma, he wondered, if the world had gone differently? He bit the inside of his cheeks, that was a complicated place to go.

Probably not. He couldn't imagine anything that would have turned Emma into a fighter, no amount of pain would ever cause Emma to hunt a man down and shoot an arrow in the night.

"He was the only one left." Her voice was barely audible, but echoed around his head. How long had she been lying awake? Had she heard his nightmares?

"Left of what?"

"Home," the word struck him like a blow to the stomach, "the village we lived in, before going after Danny. He's the only one left from there. Everyone else, well, they're not there anymore are they?" Monroe stared intently at her bruised arms, lost for anything to say. "I barely remember Mom, she doesn't really feel like a part of that home anymore. So it's just me and Aaron. We could try and track him, but so many people went to that school yesterday, I don't know how we would do it."

"Charlotte, I –" he stopped short as he noticed her getting up and reaching for her boots. "Going somewhere?"

"We came through a bar to get here didn't we? By the sounds of it, it's a twenty-four hour place. You coming?" She asked as she reached the second door, the one that would take them to the hallway, rather than the adjoining room. He caught up with her on the staircase.

"Double whiskey," she purred as the lowered herself onto a bar stool

"Two, please," he lowered onto the stool next to her. "I don't think many people are left who can think of home anymore." She looked sideways at him, she'd been there, she'd seen Emma die. Monroe returned her gaze and then slid his focus to look over her shoulder. A group of men crowded a small table of empty pint glasses and leered at the view of Charlie's bare arms and low-rise jeans. She noticed him sudden clench his fist and tension shot through her body.

"What is it?" she mutter under her breath.

Monroe forced himself to relax his hand, "Charlotte, I don't know if you remember what happened last time you and I were in the same bar."

She felt her body relax and she rolled her eyes and lifted her glass to her lips. She closed her eyes as the warmth flowed down her throat. "That was the first time you came back for me."

ooo

Two whiskey glasses sat on the bar either side of an almost empty bottle.

"What was it like, growing up with electricity?"

He searched his inebriated mind for memories to share and he swallowed back some drink, "For starters, whiskey used to come with ice in it." The corners of Charlie's mouth pulled up slightly. "I rode a motorbike when I was a teenager" his eyes were directed at Charlie, but glazed over and thoughtful.

"There was an old, rusty one in the village. Danny and I used to play on it when we were kids." At the mention of her brother, Monroe's eyes focused on her face intently, but there was no sign on anger or blame in her expression. She smiled as she continued remembering, "There was an old Ferris wheel I used to go to, mostly when I was mad at Dad."

"Fairgrounds," he muttered wistfully, "I remember fairgrounds. Miles and I would go and win big on the shooting games."

Charlie scoffed as she drank, "cheats."

Monroe ground his teeth and in response to her questioning look leaned in close, his rough breath brushing her cheek, "your fan club's growing, Charlotte."

She slowly turned to glance over her shoulder and as she turned back, sustained the closeness of his face defiantly. She rose an eyebrow and she spoke and smirked, "reckon you can take them, Bass?"

He smiled, "I'm not going to try." They were a still for a moment, then Charlie sat back and reached for the whiskey bottle, making light work of the remaining drink, straight from the bottle. She stood up and made her way to the staircase.

Monroe watched her for a moment, then slowly rose to follow. As he reached her side he casually slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her gently into his side, "might as well let them know there's no chance you'll be on your own tonight."

She breathed in a faint laugh, "Isn't there?"

He shot one last cutting look at the group of men as they turned a corner on the staircase, "no, there isn't."


	2. The Morning After

As they entered the room, Charlie was thankful to Monroe's protective arm around her shoulders; walking had become difficult and the staircase would have proved troublesome by herself. The door knob produced a click as she turned the knob, she winced, it was a loud noise in the quiet of the night. She pulled the door open slowly and tiptoed in.

Monroe was amused by her efforts at stealth, after half of a bottle of whiskey they bore no resemblance to the chillingly quiet way she could stalk prey, crossbow at the ready. She tripped over a bad floorboard and into the room. He stepped forward and caught her around the waist. He laughed silently, blowing warm air against her cheek.

"Steady Charlotte," he was enjoying himself. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking into the house after a couple of drinks on the sly. But his elation was cut short.

"Hey! Are you two there?" Miles' voice rang loudly in their inebriated ears. Charlie noticed that the adjoining door was open and made an effort to walk soberly into the other room, with Monroe following at a distance.

"Everything okay Miles? Where's Mom?" She fidgeted, aware of how obvious her drunken state must be.

"She was getting worried about patriots following us here, wanted to talk a look around outside. Clearly I'm in no state to head out with her, so she went to wake you Charlie. Where were you?"

Monroe was leaning against the wall next to the door frame, "we went downstairs for a drink, Miles."

"Oh, excellent. Sebastian Monroe sharing a bottle of whiskey with her daughter, that's exactly the image that will get Rachel sharpening a dagger."

"How did you..?"

"I can smell it from here, Kid." His eyes were mocking, not angry, which of course he had no right to be. Charlie was well within her rights to have a drink when she wanted one. His expression shifted as he looked over to his old friend, "besides, I know it's Bass' favourite drink."

The comment wasn't lost on Monroe. Whiskey was not his favourite drink, but back when they were young and stupid it was the liquor of choice when looking for meaningless hook-ups. He meet Miles with, what he hoped, was an honest gaze. "Miles."

Charlie turned slowly to regard Monroe as the two men held each other's intense gaze. "Hey. Would you stop doing this? What's going on?"

"Nothing, Kid."

Charlie turned to walk back to the second room, muttering under her breath, "right, you two staring at each other always means nothing." She noticed Bass supress a grin as she passed him.

"Bass, close the door behind Charlie." She rolled her eyes as she was closed into the room by herself. So she was going to get to hear what all of the staring meant. She collapsed on the bed, the dull buzz of intoxication returning to her now that she was alone. Lying back, sleep came to her quickly now.

ooo

As she woke, Charlie pulled grasped at the blanket pulling it up around her shoulders and rolled over. She was reluctant to open her eyes, aware of the pain in her head and the sickness in her stomach. The voices carrying from next door pulled her out of her slumber. The bright light strained her eyes and she laced her boots and ran her fingers through her knotted hair.

She swayed as she stood, and walked slowly towards the door, resting her hand on the doorknob. She closed her eyes and breathed in and out steadily. She didn't want Rachel to notice that she was so hungover. She didn't want Monroe to notice either.

The three of them turned to watch her enter the room.

"Welcome to the land of the living," Miles was smirking, right, so he has chosen to enjoy this situation. Good to know.

"There's some food for you Charlie," her Mom was trying, but it had been a long time since she'd used the gentle caring tone of a mother and it sounded grating leaving her lips, "drink plenty of water."

Charlie could feel Monroe's eyes on her as she walked over to the small table and sat down to a metal bowl of thick porridge. Once they were content she'd managed the small walk, they returned to their conversation.

"I was scouting for two hours last night and there's no sign of any patriots nearby, they don't seem to know we're here."

Miles flinched as he sat up, "So they've not found us, doesn't mean they're not looking for us."

"So we check." The look that Rachel shot Monroe as he spoke would have been difficult to miss; her eyes were cold, colder than usual. It seemed that Miles had filled her in on the night's events.

"You're suggesting we head back in the direction of Willoughby?"

"Obviously not you, I doubt you could even stand up yet. Me and Charlotte."

"Absolutely not. You're not taking Charlie back with you, they think you're dead – what do you think happens to her if they find you?" Monroe's face was like stone, completely impossible to read.

"Mom. Come on, I'm the best tracker her by a long shot, anyone else might miss it if they've got a couple of scouts off on their own digging around. So I go."

"Then you don't need him with you."

"Listen to yourself, how can it be anything but safer to have a guy and a gun with me?"

That got Rachel, she turned to Miles for support. He held her gaze for a moment, then weakly shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"It's decided then. Charlotte and I will set off this evening. Shouldn't take more than a couple of days to track down and deal with a few scouts." His focus turned to Charlie as she spoke, the meaning of 'deal with' was not lost on her, or her mother by the looks of things.

ooo

They walked in silence, Monroe watched as she placed one foot in front of the other, slowly and carefully. He had enjoyed her drunken sway, but had for a long time come to appreciate her deadly ability to travel unnoticed. She expertly avoided twigs that would crack and damp ground that would unsteady her footing. They had run most of the distance between the public house at the patriots, but as they got closer they had to be more careful.

Charlie sank down into the ground and edged closer to the patriots who were settling into camp for the night. Monroe sank beside her. "Doesn't look like they're going to be moving again until dawn."

"We might has well get a couple of hours sleep, wanna stay close though." Decision made, she turned and retreated twenty or so yards to a hollow in the ground that was sheltered by a large boulder. Monroe regarded the small space, only just big enough for two bodies to crouch.

"And to think, we had a sofa and a mattress last night."

"Get down. And keep your voice down."

"Of course, you're the brains of this operation," he teased as his arm pushed against hers as he settled into the hallow. "I'm just 'a guy and a gun', right?"

She glanced at him sideways with a disparaging look.

"Get some sleep Charlotte, I'll take first watch."

She nodded, leaning her head back against the boulder and closing her eyes. She was so tired, her limbs were drained from the extended run and the residual effects of the alcohol had allowed fatigue to settle in quickly. But her mind was active and charging, all too aware of the closeness of Sebastian Monroe.


	3. The Hunt

Monroe remained awake and alert as the night sky darkened. Every now and then he glanced over at Charlie, each time wondering what the dull stirring in the pit of his stomach meant.

As the sky reached its blackest, Monroe let out a low laugh, jealousy, he decided. Jealously that she could sleep so peacefully against a rock; when it would be his turn, he would toss and turn and no doubt wake with her hand smothering the sound of his unconscious terror.

As the night began to lighten and his lids began to feel heavy, he decided it was time to switch over. It wasn't a long stretch to extend his hand from where it rested on his thigh to her wrist. He squeezed her soft but dirtied hand gently and waited patiently for her eyes to fly open. Within seconds her free hand was gripped around the knife strapped to her hip.

The corners of Monroe's mouth twitched as he leaned in, not wanting to make any more sound than necessary, breathing against her ear, "wakey wakey Charlotte, your turn to watch."

He noticed that her grip on her knife hadn't loosened as she simply nodded. He shifted, looking for a somewhat comfortable position against the rock, soon giving up and leaning is head backwards, in search of sleep.

OOO

"Rachel, please, will you just sleep?"

"No, no I won't Miles," her eyes were roving around madly in the darkness, "my daughter, my only child is out in the wilderness with that psychopath, how could I sleep?"

"So, you're just going to stay awake for the next three days?" He winced as he sat up in the bed, his arm was yet to regain full strength. "Depriving yourself of sleep is not going to help her in away."

"It's not a choice Miles!" her words were frantic now, "he doesn't care about anyone. Even if he doesn't just get bored and decide to kill her, he'll leave her at the first sign of danger!"

"I don't know Rachel, I think Charlie is just about the only person in the world he won't hurt."

"What makes you so sure, Miles?"

"She's innocent in this, the rest of us are carrying around a whole heap of mistakes, but Charlie, I reckon he sees her as whole, he's gonna hold onto that."

"I'm not entirely sure that makes me feel better," an entirely new set of motherly concerns now flooded her mind, but she was momentarily reassured of her daughter's immediate safety and her mind turned to other concerns, "but you think he'd hurt us?"

For a moment Miles was lost in thought, then as he spoke he stared to the end of the room, "he wouldn't kill us, anymore, I don't think. But, if we crossed him, I don't think he'd mind causing us some pain to save his own skin."

Rachel flinched at the pain in his voice as he talked about his best friend, moving to sit on the bed bedside him, "he never would have been able to kill you Miles."

"Perhaps."

She leaned in towards his face, lips parted, desperately. She inched forwards slowly, reasting her forehead on his. They held this position for a long moment, before her close the space, pressing his dry lips against hers, salty with tears. He tangled his good hand in her hair, pulling her to him, kissing her roughly, familiarly.

OOO

Charlie shifted slowly, turning to peer over the rock that had been their resting place, she watched for a few seconds as the camp began to stir in the dawn sunlight. She sank back into the ground, next to Monroe.

She reached over to wake him the way he had her, gently squeezing his calloused hand. Suddenly, she felt his body tense and his jaw twitch, preparing to cry out. She moved quickly, swinging herself over his extended legs, kneeling in from of him with her mouth pressed against his mouth, just as he let out a shout, which was dampened by her grip. Charlie lifted herself to peer over the boulder, it seemed the strangled cry had gone unnoticed by the camp so she lowered herself slowly, regarding Monroe's panicked eyes. She waited, still, until his body relaxed before she lowered her hand and shifted her weight, so that she was sat beside him once again.

She turned sideways to look at him; his demeanour had changed in that short moment of her movement. His eyes were hard and teeth grinding, setting his jaw into a hard square. It had been a long time since he had looked quite so much like the General of the Monroe Republic.

"We need to move, try and get some ears on them." She began gathering her weapons together, keeping low as she swung her cross bow over her shoulder and wrapped her hands around a gun.

As she moved through the trees Monroe followed her silently. It wasn't long before the whole camp was awake and it took them a while to get close enough to hear anyone who had anything to say that mattered to them.

They crouched, just metres away from the camp, hidden by a tangled mess of fallen branches and listened in.

"If they've gone any further than this, we can be pretty sure they're not planning to return to Willoughby." Charlie caught her breath, was that really true? She'd not been at Willoughby long, but it was the first time in a long while that she'd been anywhere remotely homely, but they'd already said it themselves, there was nothing to be gained by going back. For a moment she considered all of the people they'd left behind, wilfully ignorant of how evil the patriots really were. Evil, she'd once thought that about Monroe, and yet her she was. "We'll send a small party of trackers to finish them off and put out a bounty on their heads just to be sure, but the rest of us will be heading back to town."

They turned to face each other, Charlie noticing the small smile that pulled at Monroe's lips. A small party of trackers? That would be no problem for them.

OOO

It had been a quick journey down this road when they had been heading to the camp, but now they were tracking trackers, they were moving slowly. Either these trackers were lucky or they'd caught a good trail because they were heading in the direction of the inn where Rachel and Miles were still staying.

Monroe and Charlie watched at a distance as the trackers stopped to drink and eat, clearly not worried by the thought that anyone was following them. Turning to grin at each other, they both mouthed 'now'.

Charlie got the first hit, from a distance with her cross bow, she had restrung and fired again before Monroe swung in with his machete. Charlie followed suit, dropping her bow the he ground and taking hold of her knives and running into the combat. They had decided against guns, though quicker and easier, they were too close to the road to draw such attention.

Charlie gasped as she was rammed into a tree, but sunk a knife into the man's abdomen before he could bring his gun up to her head. As he sank to the ground, she knocked him out with the butt of the blade. She turned to Monroe, whose t-shirt was drenched in blood splatter. Around them lay six bodies. He walked over the unconscious soldier who had pushed her against the tree and sliced his throat open. Charlie caught him off guard, knocking the weapon from his hand.

"Hey! Was that really necessary? He was out cold!"

Monroe grabbed her wrist and stepped close to her, spitting out his words, "Yeah, he was. And what about when he wakes up? You want him reporting back to Willoughby and bringing the whole damn patriot army down on us?"

She shook her wrist free of his grip and held his angry stare.

It was Monroe who looked away first; he turned and retrieved a canteen of water from the ground. Charlie followed suit, scavenging food from the lifeless bodies. They hadn't eaten since they left the inn and now that she'd realised, it was her own concern.

They sat on the ground as they silently shared their findings.

"You don't like killing, Charlotte."

She looked at him in disgust, "do you?"

"No, Charlotte, I don't. But you grew up after the blackout, in a world where killing isn't so taboo."

Her words were slow and bitter, "The world might not be bothered about it, but in my village, in my home, it was a pretty big deal, General."

Monroe laughed bitterly, "so, we're back to that are we?"

"I guess so." She took a swig from the canteen as she got up and walked away, to sit down, further away from Monroe, leaning against a tree. Night had fallen as they had eaten their food and though they could easily make their way back in the night, Charlie didn't fancy the walk. "You can take first watch."

Monroe didn't question her decision to stay for the night.

OOO

She felt his fingers wrapping around her hands and pressing gently, waking her up. She pulled her hand away sharply. She knew it was childish to be so bothered about such a tiny bit of contact, but he had bothered her yesterday and she wanted him to know.

His face was close to hers in the darkness, as he spoke to her in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry Charlotte, for what I did yesterday, it was necessary," the glint in her eye was unyielding, "and I'm also sorry for what I said."

"Just go to sleep Monroe."

"No, I think we should head back now, it'd be safer."

They moved steadily through the trees, still a distance from the inn as the sun rose. It was gone midday as they made their way through the bar.

"Stop for a victory drink?" she turned to regard him coldly, noticing the mocking glint in his eye, he was toying with her, but she also didn't want to give her mum the benefit of knowing Monroe had gotten to her, so she nodded stiffly.

They sat at a table in silence, letting the warmth of the alcohol wash over their aches. He finished a while before her and regarded her as she continued to drink in silence. Conversation had flowed freely last time they shared a drink at this bar, but she closed off from him now. He guessed he'd have to wait until he was back on her good side, or at least not on her bad side.

As she finished her drink, she regarded him bleakly, before forcing her mouth into the shape of an unconvincing smile, "happy faces, then?"

"Happy faces" he agreed.

He followed her upstairs and followed her to the door that would take them into the main room where Miles and Rachel would be. She pushed the door open; ready to share the good news that no-one was watching them, at the moment.

Miles walked into her as the stopped suddenly in the doorway, eyes fixed on the scene in front of her, Rachel was on all fours above Miles, his hands splayed against her shirtless back, they were locked in a passionate kiss as Monroe cleared his throat comically, pulling their attention to the figures that stood in the doorway.

For a moment, they were all silent, before the spluttered explanations began.

"Charlie, I'm – we thought, uhm – that was quick?"

"Kid, I… are you alright?"

Charlie mad a bee-line for the door to the adjoining room, "I'm going to get some rest."

Monroe chuckled as he followed her, "We'll fill you in on our success later then."

As he shut the door behind him, he regarded Charlie's shocked expression and stepping closer, teased, "what happened to your happy face, Charlotte?"


End file.
